


Visiting Hours

by Everything_is_Temporary



Series: breath through it [2]
Category: Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hospitalization, Introspection, Johnny's got a lot of feelings, but verbalizes like... none of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everything_is_Temporary/pseuds/Everything_is_Temporary
Summary: All told, Johnny is only in the hospital for a total of four days, and most of those are less for treatment and more "for observation".He isn't short on visitors though.
Relationships: Bobby Brown & Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence & Laura Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence & The Cobras
Series: breath through it [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206644
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	1. Daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a... continuation of sorts to a previous work, so if you haven't read the first one this might not make a lot of sense. Fair warning.

It's just fragments, at first. 

Pavement on his back. Coughing and choking and needing air. He needs air and there's just not enough air- then he's on his side. And there's a hand on his back, the thumb moving in little circles over the knots of his spine. Everything hurts, but there's air again. A voice with a biting, Newark accent says "Hey man, you're okay. You're doing okay, alright, just... breath. Keep breathing, alright?" And he trusts that voice, though he feels like maybe he shouldn't. 

Then he's being moved. He's on his back again, he can hear wheels squeaking and someone is touching his face, sliding a mask over his mouth. He tries to reach up, to weakly paw it off because seriously that feels unnecessary, and because he has no reason to trust then hands that put it there- but someone pulls his hand back to his side, and he doesn't have the energy to fight anymore. 

And then there's the voice again. The voice is saying his name, Johnny Lawrence, and he's not sure his name has ever sounded like that before. It sounds like a joke Johnny's allowed to be in on, if he can wake up enough to hear it. 

There are hands holding his hand, and a thumb swiping a gentle path across his knuckles- back forth, back forth. 

The voice is still going. It sounds sad, and Johnny wishes it didn't. Did he do that? Did he put that sadness there? He has the sinking feeling he did. That's just what he does to people, after all. He's really not worth the trouble of talking to, and certainly not worth the trouble of sticking around for. He's sure the voice will realize that soon enough and go. The voice fades in and out, and every time there's a lull or a pause he's convinced that this is it, that they've gotten tired of this one sided conversation and left.

But he can still feel those hands around his. Can still feel the back forth of thumb, and the way smaller fingers curl over his calluses.

He drifts off again to something that sounds like laughter.


	2. Laura

When Johnny woke up his mother was there. 

She was there, beside his bed with her blonde hair sticking to the tear tracks on her face. And when she noticed his eyes were cracked open and peering at her she gasped, like he'd performed a miracle.

So much was... foggy in his mind- what happened, where he was, it was all still a slowly resolving blur. What he did know was that he was hurt, and more than anything he just wanted his mom.

He blinked at her, fighting back the wet in his eyes, and reached out.

"Mama?" 

His voice broke in the middle but that didn't matter, because then her arms were around him and her hand was smoothing through his hair.

"Johnny, Johnny, baby," she pressed kisses against his temple, then his cheek, "oh baby, oh god you're okay. You're okay." 

"Hurts," he choked into her hair. Talking felt like fishhooks against his esophagus, he burrowed further into her chest.

"I know, baby. Shhhh, it's okay, I know." 

She didn't know, couldn't possibly. Johnny had never let Laura get too close to his life at Cobra Kai, knew instinctively on some level that she wouldn't like it. She'd never liked to see him hurt, and he didn't have the words to explain to her the necessity of the bruises, the way taking a hit was like being forged in fire. 

Laura would have told him playing with fire was a good way to get burned. A week ago he would have said that was stupid, but remembering his sensei's arm tightening around his throat he started to consider that maybe she would have been right. 

The night refocused in his mind with the slow whirl of a camera lens. Losing to LaRusso, arguing with his sensei in the parking lot, rough hands and a too tight grip, fighting for oxygen and then... 

His mother had stopped crying, mostly. She was just breathing deep into the crown of his head, nose mashed against his hair. 

He felt guilty, so incredibly guilty. He made his mom cry, of course he did, that's the kind of asshole he is. His mom shouldn't be sitting in a hospital room crying right now, she should be at home, having a nice breakfast in front of the TV or something. Instead she was here, crying, and that was all his fault. 

She leaned back, not letting go of him but far enough to look him in the eyes. Far enough to see the half formed bruises around those eyes, too. 

"Oh, your poor face," she tutted, tracing her fingers delicately across the bridge of his nose. He let her, though he winced when she pressed down just below one of his eyes. 

"It's not so bad," he shrugged, though he had no real way of knowing.

His mom leveled him with an unimpressed look. She pushed his bangs back from his forehead, which had the instant effect of making him feel somehow slightly better, and also roughly eight years old. 

"John, if you think you can lie to me right now you are sorely mistaken." 

"I'm sorry," he put on a sheepish smile, though he worried it might have come off more like a grimace. Either way, Laura's face softened. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms, careful to avoid his IV.

"Don't be, my brave boy." 

"Ok, mom, jeez." He pulled back, and pretended the twinge in his chest had everything to do with his aching ribs, and nothing to do with the hurt look that flashed across Laura's face. 

"Well," she smoothed down the front of her blouse and wiped her eyes, "Your step father took care of the bill this morning, so don't worry about that. Just... focus on feeling better, okay sweetie." 

Johnny tensed, "Sid's here?"

"No," Laura sighed, "he sent me with the credit card." 

"Good." 

"Johnny." Laura dropped her head into her hands. She'd been young when she had him, too young maybe, but for once she looked every bit old enough to be his mother, "can we just... can we just focus on you right now? Please?" 

He would rather not do that, honestly. He would rather focus on anything else. Anything else in the whole world. He would rather focus on... the statistics of teen motorcycle accident fatalities, or the kinds of sounds Sid might make during sex. Well... maybe not that last one. But the point stood. 

"Do we... have to talk right now?" He asked, sinking back into the hospital bed, "can we just... sit here for a bit, please?"

Laura sat up, took a deep breath, then took his hand and held it hard. 

"Yes. Yes, of course we can. Whatever you need." 

Johnny wasn't really sure what he needed, but for the moment it was enough that she was there. The rest he could figure out later.


	3. Kreese

When he goes to sleep he's back in the parking lot. 

Kreese has been tight lipped since his loss. Johnny's not really in the mood to talk either, but despite what his chem teacher might say Johnny's not a total idiot- he knows this can only be a bad thing. 

Apparently he's a little bit of an idiot though, because even knowing that this can only end poorly, nothing could have stopped him from following Kreese out to the car. It's like he's on tracks, the corse has already been set and there's nothing he can do but follow through till the end.

He lost.

He lost, but he doesn't really feel like a loser. Passing LaRusso that trophy... that felt right. Felt like his center of balance- off kilter since the moment Kreese told Bobby to take out the knee- snapped back into place. 

So when Kreese calls him a loser, he does something so idiotic even his chem teacher would be surprised.

"No man, you're the loser!" 

And then Kreese breaks his trophy, and he feels the phantom memory of embarrassment and anger flooding up from his stomach. He knows what happens next, he dreads it, and perhaps his mind instinctively shies away from what he knows is coming because that's when the scene shifts. 

They're in the dojo, him and Kreese, standing opposite each other on the mats. Johnny's not wearing his gi though, he's got on the same outfit he'd changed into after the tournament. 

It's printed up there on the wall, strike hard, strike first, no mercy- in bold black text.

For the first time in a long time Johnny doesn't want to strike. He wants to run, but his feet wont cooperate. 

Kreese strikes, hard and first, and then he's got Johnny around the throat. Johnny is scrabbling at the backs of his arms, kicking and struggling and just trying so hard to break free, but black spots are dancing in front of his vision, and try as he may to fight it there's just no air left. 

And this, he knows instinctively, is losing. And he's never been so scared.

Johnny woke up choking all over again, with the heart monitor loud and frantic and a panicked nurse rushing into the room. Then there's an oxygen mask being pulled over his mouth and the nurse telling him to take deep breaths. He almost wanted to tell her not to bother, that there was no point in it, but he knew that was the kinda talk that could get you committed somewhere if you weren't careful. 

He told her he was fine. That he'd had a bad dream but was feeling much better now, thank you. Even all bruised up Johnny had the kind of face middle aged women tended to trust, and she left him with a pat on the shoulder and instructions to press the help button if he needed anything.

Johnny passed the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and trying not to dream.


End file.
